


04: Civilian - Wye Oak

by thestarsjustblinkforus



Series: Unrequited [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-07
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-10 16:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/787895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestarsjustblinkforus/pseuds/thestarsjustblinkforus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Because the thing is.</i><br/> <br/><i>She’s not stupid.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	04: Civilian - Wye Oak

She thinks she could live off the memory of this. She could hold it to her when she’s cold and keep warm, could remember the taste of him and be full when she’s hungry... 

He makes a soft noise beside her, murmurs something she doesn’t catch and she smiles softly at his eyelashes, thick and flickering dark against his pale skin as he dreams.

He is close, so close, she can count each eyelash, she can number each of his freckles scattered in constellations across his cheekbones. She has never been able to gaze all she wants without a thought of being caught, of giving everything away before, and so she does it while she can, she indulges in every detail and she thinks, _Marius is beautiful in every way a person can be beautiful_... 

Her eyes drift down to the fullness of his lips and rest there, her cheeks flushing with pleasure at the memory of them against her own and other places.

The corner of his mouth shifts slightly just for a moment into a small smile and she feels this ache, this _tenderness_ suddenly wash over her stronger than anything she has ever felt and she knows how stupid she’s being letting herself get in this deep, she _knows_ but she doesn’t care.

Because, right now, encircled in his arms with the sun starting to rise and throwing warm stripes across their bodies through the blinds she feels... happy. For the first time in she doesn’t know how long if _ever_ she feels _radiant_ with happiness, and it’s not going to last because it never lasts, but his breath, warm against her bare shoulder, the whisper of his lips against her skin is making that seem utterly insignificant. She has _now_. She has _right now_ and right now is perfect. 

Right now it is easier than it's ever been to pretend that this could be true. He’s wrapped himself so fiercely around her it’s easy to pretend that he actually wants this, that he wants _her,_ and she lets herself do it. She lets herself pretend for just a little bit longer, for the length of a sigh, another brush of his lips against her shoulder...

She wants more than anything to run her fingers through the tumbled waves of his hair again, to kiss him like she kissed him last night, slow and deep and honest but she knows it’s time for her to go.

Because the thing is.

She’s not stupid.

He never would have reached for her last night were he not so upset. He was sad and she took advantage and she can’t stand the thought of him looking at her embarrassed and regretful and she knows that that is exactly what will happen because he didn't mean it. Not really.

She begins to move, she begins to carefully inch her way away from him and towards the wall praying he won’t wake up until she is gone, and suddenly he rolls away from her completely. He releases her, he leaves her free to _go_ and she doesn’t really believe in _signs_ or any of that kind of shit, but the timing hurts a little and she mentally slaps herself because that is _exactly_ what she doesn’t want this to turn into - a _hurt_.

Because Eponine Thenardier doesn’t get _hurt_.

She leaves before that happens. She gets out before it’s too late. 

She starts to climb over him, careful not to touch his skin that is everywhere and _radiating_ and she wants it back so desperately she stays there just for a moment thisclose to murmuring _fuck it_ and fitting herself against him again, this time in the light of day without the haze of Guinness and fresh sorrow between them because his lips are just a breath away from her lips, a sliver of space between their skin and...

_No._

**_Go_ ** _, you masochist._

_Jesus._

She gets herself clear, tiptoes away from the bed once she’s on her feet. She retrieves her blouse, crumpled in a heap on his floor where she had dropped it last night. It’s still damp but she pulls it on anyway, shivering all the while and already missing his arms around her.

She doesn’t look back when she leaves. She shuts the door quietly behind her and she thinks she will be fine whatever happens.

Whether he decides this happened or not.

She will smile the next time she sees him and he will believe that smile because pretending to be fine is all she ever does and she’s really fucking good at it, she’s really fucking good.

She has no tell like shaking hands to give her away.

**Author's Note:**

> Track 04: Civilian - Wye Oak : http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jViDy6UhZSw


End file.
